These are my hands, these are my faults, these are my plans, and these are my nasty little thoughts (I wrote them down for you to contemplate…)

In case y’all haven’t figured it out by  now, I’m often astounded by the absurdity I’m surrounded by on a fairly regular basis. I won’t pretend that every single second of every single day is full of “oomph” but it’s pretty damn close. I’ve been truly  blessed with friends and family who keep me on my toes, knock me down to size when my ego gets larger than life, who take my moods with a grain of salt, and who keep me laughing along the way.

Here are some random tidbits and mini-anecdotes that may help explain why, in my world, things are rarely ever calm.

• I refuse to grow up. Not in the sense that I don’t accept my responsibilities as an adult- I AM a productive member of society… I just absolutely abhor the idea of settling into a mundane day to day existence that bores me to tears.
• I’m on the wagon, but not in the sense that I’m a friend of Bill W. Due to a freak snow shoveling accident back in February, I’ve been in intensive physical therapy. To add to my recooperative efforts, I’ve been instructed to give up alcohol. Entirely. It’s been tough. However, most people’s ridiculous stories stemmed from beer and vodka soaked evenings. I’m quickly realizing I’ve got just as many sober tales as I do intoxicated.
• When I do drink,  chaos usually follows. No matter where I am, or who I’m with, things get out of hand. Not “Hey, can you bail me out of jail?” out of hand, but “We totally had a three hour reign of terror in the mall after getting flagged and booted from Ruby Tuesday’s at 3pm on a Tuesday afternoon and have pictures with the Easter Bunny to prove it” out of hand. Especially if I’ve got my favorite partners in crime with me (T & D, I’m looking at you).
• I get lost. A lot. Anyone who knows me has most likely gotten a frantic “I am completely lost and have no idea how to get where I’m going” phone call… at which point they promptly remind me I’ve got both a GPS unit and AT&T Navigator on my phone (note the shameless product plug).
• As a whole, I loathe the female gender. Sure, I’ve got about half a handful of true female friends that are like sisters from another mister, but I prefer the company of those possessing “Y” chromosomes. This generally means I hang out with a bunch of rambunctious, wildly inappropriate dudes. Ask me how many times I’ve had to drive one of them to the ER, or how many times I’ve had to calm down a pissed off girlfriend, or how many of those knuckleheads I’ve bailed out of jail. Go ahead, I dare you.
• I can’t go a day without tripping over my own two feet. Or walking into something. Or dropping everything I put my hands on. Or losing my keys. Or forgetting where I put my phone. Or otherwise somehow making a complete fool of myself. I’ve come to terms with it, and have learned the art of self-deprecating humor.
• I get cranky when I’m not fed regularly. No joke. I’ve been nicknamed Meatloaf for a reason. Interfere with feeding time, and I might cut you.
• I have a minor case of road rage. Some would disagree with the “minor” part of that statement, but I lose all patience when behind the wheel of my mini minivan. I won’t give examples of the words that have flown out of my mouth while driving, but it would disappoint my mother to know my vocabulary is that colorful. You’ll probably get more on this later, in a serial bunch of posts about my luck with vehicular events.
• I don’t catch feelings easily. When I do, they generally get big and sloppy, real quick and in a hurry. If a dude is bitchin’ wicked awesome enough to hold my attention for more than 30 seconds, it tends to set off my “fight or flight” instincts. Yes, I’m a chick and feelings freak me out. A lot.  Probably part of the reason I don’t seek out the friendship of chicks often- WAY too many emotional broads out there. If I can avoid talking about my feelings and emotions, I do. When confronted with the need to do so, it’s blunt and to the point and usually sprung at the least appropriate moment possible.
• I miss college. College is this weird time in a person’s life where you’re “an adult” but it’s still completely 110% okay to act like a shithead. In fact, people expect it of you. If I could relive college and get away with it, I would. I played the shithead card to the fullest, and it was a blast. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a shithead… I just don’t advertise it like I did in college.
• If people knew what I was REALLY thinking half the time, I’d be going straight to hell. I’m probably headed there anyway, but roughly more than half of what comes out of my mouth is heavily censored. There are few people in this world who understand me and how truly twisted I can be. To those people: thank you for being an awful human being with me. Seriously. Without you to share the inner workings of my demented mind, I probably would have lost it a long time ago.
• I rock out in my car and don’t give a shit who sees me. Most people have the decency to act sheepish when caught drumming on their steering wheel and singing off key at the top of their lungs by onlookers . Not this girl. I crank it up, and generally shoot for an encore.
• I once drove around for an entire week with my passenger side door covered in vomit unbeknownst to me. True story. That one will probably be chronicled in a later post, but this was not one of my finer moments. That Subaru saw far more shit than it ever deserved.
• In high school, my friends and I were known as the “bra bandits.” The summer between junior and senior years, I proved to be a “late bloomer” and outgrew every bra I owned. Rather than let them go to waste, my friends and I wrote “bra bandits” on them, and left them in people’s mailboxes, on their cars, and whereever else we saw fit. Looking back, it was idiotic, but still hilarious. Especially after a few years, I was ratted out by one of my friends to someone who was a frequent recipient of bra bandit attacks. Boy was HE pissed.

Aaaaaaaand, I’m spent.

Tags: bra bandits, directionally challenged, road rage